


A Perfect Picture

by al_fletcher, athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Series: Aether Effect (Clean) [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition, Pre-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Rare Characters, Rare Pairings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:41:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/al_fletcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Yvette Montilyet is struggling to capture her sister and the Inquisitor in her art, and her hubby comes along to help.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Josephine Montilyet, Yvette Montilyet/Adorno Ciel Otranto
Series: Aether Effect (Clean) [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2074563
Kudos: 6
Collections: DA Drunk Writing Circle Prompt Fics





	A Perfect Picture

“No! No, no, _no!”,_ Lady Yvette Montilyet complained, throwing her brushes at her palette as she chastised the two maidservants she had posing for her in the garden. “You’re not capturing their spirit at all!”

“But, milady—”, the elven one of the two protested.

“Argh!”, Yvette yelled. “Oh, it’s hopeless! It’s not your fault but… _ohhh!_ Just take a break for now. Get some tea!...For yourselves! Don’t bother me until the top of the hour, either!”

With that, the two maidservants were sent packing, most likely to the pantry to get said tea, whilst Yvette sat on her stool, fuming as she looked over her canvas and the now-empty garden which she’d tried to depict in paint. From over her shoulder, she heard some distant footsteps drawing closer, sounding with the familiar pace of her husband’s gait.

“Is everything all right, my dear?”, Lord Adorno Ciel Otranto cooed, leaning over her to glance at the unfinished canvas.

“It’s _hopeless!_ ”, Yvette whined. “I’m trying to make this portrait for my sister and her…the Inquisitor, and it’s simply not coming together.”

“What do you think the problem is?”, he asked, comparing her painting with the garden.

“I don’t know,” she said, pouting. “My models…”

“…the servants you rope into posing for these portraits…”

“…yes, well,” she continued, saying, “They just don’t move—they don’t stand the same way they did, at least as far as I’ve seen them.”

Otranto looked over at the grove, stroking his chin in thought. “Far be it for me to know the workings of the feminine mind, let alone two of them together in a relationship, but there may be a factor that you haven’t considered thus far.”

Yvette looked up at her husband, asking, “Oh? And what would that be?”

“You see, both Georgie and Stella are married.”

She asked, “And what’s the issue with that?”

“They are married, separately, to _men_ ,” he clarified.

Yvette’s eyebrow raised itself as she pressed, “Your meaning being?”

“It…may simply be that neither is particularly used to leading the dance, as it were,” he mused, gesturing with his body, “And thus neither might find it particularly natural to be the gentleman draping the lady over their arm.”

Yvette sat for long moments, absorbing this particular piece of wisdom as she absentmindedly scratched the back of her head with the end of one of her longer brushes, pondering the meaning of her husband’s words.

Finally, she admitted, “You may well have a point there. But what can I do, summon the manservants? Or the husband of either?”

“Perhaps it’s best to infuse yourself entirely into the scene, my darling,” he said, extending a hand to her.

“You _do_ realise I can’t model for myself seeing as I can’t see what I’m doing over there sitting down over here?”, she asked sceptically.

“Of course not,” he said, “But surely it would help you with the direction you’re going to give poor Georgie and Stella once they return.”

Sighing, she conceded, “Oh, very well. I think you’re just using this as an excuse to play with your wife in the middle of the garden, though.”

Otranto gasped in faux shock, patting his chest theatrically. “Perish the thought! Well, perhaps I was missing you a little by the third hour of that dreadful meeting with the guilds in town. Who’s to say?”

Taking his hand, Yvette stood up, following him into the flower-lined grove in which she’d chosen to set her scene. “You always think up the best excuses, you know that?”

“I’m far too aware. Now then, which way were they facing?” he asked.

“The Inquisitor’s back was to the sun, so you stand thusly,” she said, posing him appropriately, “And my sister was facing her, with her shielded by Rivka.”

“And the Inquisitor’s arm?”, he said, adjusting his position.

“Held up high,” she said, “Fingers interlocking with my sister’s, like so. And their other hands were clasped around the other’s elbows.”

“Ah,” Otranto observed as he looked into her eyes, “The classic waltz. How positively tasteful! Your sister will be over the moon when she receives it.”

“I can only hope,” Yvette huffed. “Now, I’m going to lean back, and you’re going to support me as you look down at me as you are now.”

“Observantly?”, he asked.

“ _Passionately_ ,” she stressed.

“Why, I assumed that was par for the course,” Otranto smirked as he leant his wife backwards, feeling the slightest of strains on his lower arms as he balanced for their combined weight. “So, a _passionate_ look, then?”

“Yes,” Yvette said, glancing down at the ground and hoisting herself up to ensure that it all seemed natural. “This is the pose I had them hold up until I couldn’t bear it anymore, let alone them.”

“Well, it may simply be that Georgie and Stella lack the necessary spark.”

“I certainly hope we still do,” she said, looking back up into her husband’s eyes.

“Always,” he said, leaning down and kissing her.

Smirking, Yvette said, “I _knew_ this was an excuse.”

“Are you complaining?”, Otranto.

“Never,” she answered. “Thank you, my love. I think I know how to render them now. Now, kiss me again.”

“How can I refuse?”, he said, complying, kissing his wife once more.

* * *

With one last cut through the many layers of paper which had been wrapped around it, Rivka unveiled the painting, showing it to Josephine.

“Oh my,” Josie said, “It’s wonderful!”

Beaming, Rivka looked over from it to her, saying, “It is, isn’t it? She captured us so well!”

“And to think she’s only seen us together what, twice? Maximum?”

“She must’ve really poured her heart and soul into it,” Rivka mused.

Finding nothing else to say to that, Josephine huddled closer to Rivka, the two of taking a few more moments to appreciate Yvette’s hard work.

“Do you want to move it out now?”, Rivka asked.

“Oh, there’s no rush,” Josephine said. The guests for the commemoration won’t be here for a few days yet, and we’re hardly going to get time to admire it once it’s in the Winter Palace. Let’s just…stay here a while, shall we?”

“Of course,” Rivka said, turning over to kiss her.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/641696653817135104/


End file.
